Hopefully I can change this later once I think of something creative

I took a lighter approach to the scenes. They are more of a vague outline of what I wanted to happen in the story. Scene 2 is kind of a sloppy mashup of the activity but  here we go. SCENE 1 Jacob Hartnell finds himself in a bad situation. Not only has he lost, as he would put it, a shit ton of money, but put the eldest son of the most influential mob boss in the city in the hospital in critical condition. How he found himself in this situation doesn’t matter as much as the fact that he is in this situation. Jake dashes down the slummy streets of L.A. Frantically looking for something. The problem with this something is that he doesn’t know what it looks like. He was told it was a gin joint with no signage, but called Rick’s, in the cruddy part of town. To Jake, the cruddy part of town means about all of it. He catches himself wheezing from the exertion. “Oh god, I’m in terrible shape.” he thinks to himself. He had been running around on and off for the past three hours with no luc...

     The Stranger      Long legs shot upwards to a broad-shouldered torso.  Resting on top of the strong shoulders sits an ovular head.  What I would assume to most women would be a handsomely chiseled face with sharp details. Hazel brown eyes, slicked-back black hair, and light stubble. He moves with such graceful elegance that it distracts one from noticing the clack of his dark tan dress boots, which contracted to his muted gray suit. As he casually strolled down the chaotic aisles of food, knickknacks, clothing, and junk. Out of sheer chance, he looked at me and I looked at him. Our eyes locked only for a second, but in that second he knew everything about me, and I knew even less about him than I did before. He cracked a smile at me, the kind that one does to a decades-old friend. His front left tooth had a small chip in it. He winked at me and returned his attention forward towards the cashier. The cashier was an old man. He was probably i...

Literally was copying it from the document and trying to paste it but was a second too late was the board closed           A still night in New York City. As still as the city can be anyways. Leaping from building to building a man in a blood-red spandex jumpsuit tries to outrun his hate. The sight of a costumed figure upon the roofs no longer warrants a second look from the citizens of the Big Apple. It had been decades since the colorful vigilantes who called themselves heroes had appeared and now were a welcome part of the city. Crime rates were never lower if one did not count the violations of the heroes, and no one did. The scarlet figure, known to the city as Street Demon, is chasing some would-be rapists if he has not intervened. He hates them, their families, their friends, anyone who let this filth continue to exist in the world. It had been a while since he had killed. Too long in his opinion. There may be some bad press on the slaughter, but...